


Solace

by gh0stbby



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bloodplay, F/M, Idk what I'm doing with my life, Master & Servant, No Dialogue, Reader is obsessed with Strade, and this is the best i could do to put it into words, no beta we die like men, seriously i had a dream about the grease bag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0stbby/pseuds/gh0stbby
Summary: "He was your everything, and even though he had taken all you had from you, he graced you with his love, sex and praise. He was your home, the only place you ever wanted to be, the only person you would submit yourself to, no matter the cost."
Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Strade's super ooc and there is no dialogue at all, I just wanted to indulge myself with writing this. MC is absolutely obsessed with Strade to a point thats just.. Weird.
> 
> This was a pain in the ass to write but I wanted to step out of my boundaries so I am sorry if this is.. a bit off. 
> 
> As always, English isn't my first language and this isn't beta read so forgive me if I made any mistakes.

Soft. _So soft_. You never thought a man like him could be this gentle. The way he lifted your forearm exposing the pale flesh to his view was painstakingly slow, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soon to be stained skin. His eyes flicked between yours and the appendage in his grasp, his other hand mindlessly twirling a small pocket knife between his fingers.

You had begged him to do this, make you his in other ways than just mentally. To you this was something like a ceremony, _a ritual_ , bonding over blood and intimacy. There were candles placed all around the room, red ones, white ones, grey ones, all alight and illuminating the scene with a dim, warm light. Pure, white sheets were spread out underneath the two of you, only waiting to be soiled by your essence. It was _dreamlike_ , really, there was no other word to describe it.

Gently Strade brought the blade to your wrist, eyes fixed onto yours as he asked you for permission to begin. You nod, ever so slightly that he could’ve easily missed it before you felt the blade sink into your skin.

The pain was bearable, still you couldn’t help but hiss at the intrusion of the metal splitting your flesh. He had done this countless times before, cutting, bruising, burning you to the point that you looked _broken_ , mentally and physically. To an outsider it would seem like it was abuse, that he had tortured you for his own pleasure only, but despite all the damage you had taken you enjoyed every second of it.

Cautiously he maneuvered the knife through your skin until a neat, bold ‚ _S_ ‘ adorned your wrist, crimson liquid staining your flesh, underwear and the pure sheets covering the wooden floor. It was pretty, no, _beautiful_. _Absolutely, inconceivably beautiful_. Having Strade leave a mark on you was nothing new, still he had always done it for carnal reasons, to claim you from the inside and out.

Today was different, so much more meaningful.

Lifting the knife off your arm he leaned down to the laceration, gingerly lapping his tongue over the wound. It stung, delightfully so, and watching him take in your taste and humming in response was having you shivering from head to toe.

Wiping away the stains your blood left on his lips he took grasp of the back of your neck, pulling you into a long, sensual kiss. As your tongues entwined you could taste yourself, iron and salt taking over your senses. You could smell it, feel it, and with every time you parted even hear it, the wet, sticky mess you made of your lovers face. Now it was your turn to take hold of the knife, to mark him as your own just like he did.

You turn his arm so the palm of his hand is facing you, peppering his tan skin with blood smeared kisses, a soft, relaxed sigh coming from deep inside his chest. Everything about this was just so intimate, so sincere that it had you forget how you ended up with this man in the first place.

A large, calloused hand began stroking your hair, playfully twirling the strands between his fingers as you lifted your head again, looking deep into your master’s golden eyes.

_Your Master, God, Savior._

He was your everything, and even though he had taken all you had from you, he graced you with his love, sex and praise. He was your home, the only place you ever wanted to be, the only person you would submit yourself to, no matter the cost.

Exchanging approving nods you glide the blade over his skin, at first barely touching him, then with more force and precision carving the first letter of your name into his wrist. Strade's face shows no indication of him being in pain, his expression filled with adoration, hand still tangled into your locks. As you finish your mark you let the knife fall down onto the sheets, a few drops of the dark liquid splattering onto your bare thigh.

You run a finger over the cuts, collecting some of his blood before slowly pushing the digit between your lips. You run your tongue along it’s side, never once breaking eye contact with the man sitting in front of you. You could swear you see his eyes glimmer at the sight, pupils dilating as lust crawled its way into his mind and body.

Before you can react you’re pushed onto your back, strong arms caging you beneath your lover, eager lips sucking, biting on the sensitive skin of your neck. You don’t fight him. Although this was supposed to be nothing more than a gesture of trust and commitment you were gladly accepting his advances to take things further.

You turn your head, allowing him easier access to the crook of your shoulder until you feel him bite down. Hard.

The pain is filling you with excitement, anticipation and you squirm under his strong, heavy body. His tongue runs over the bruise that was quickly forming around the bite before he begins to crawl back, hands sliding down the sides of your waist with every inch he moves. Even this slight touch has you quivering in excitement, and when he reaches your hips and pulls at the seam of your white, blood stained lace panties your breathing hitches.

The tickling sensation as he pulls them down to your ankles has you giggling, a sound that your master relishes while he leaves a trail of sticky, crimson kisses up your thigh. The sight is mesmerizing, with your blood still staining the stubbly skin around his mouth he looks feral, like a predator that had just devoured the dead flesh of his prey. And he wouldn’t stop there.

Golden orbs fixed onto yours he lets his tongue glide between your folds with an experimental lick and you gasp, clutching your legs together around his face. It wasn’t the sensation that had you react this way, more the act of him paying attention to your pussy at all. Strade was a man of taking and not giving, the only times he had even considered pleasing you with his mouth when you were extraordinarily good for him. His standards were high, extremely so, so him going down on you was a rare treat.

Another lick had you buck your hips into his face, practically begging for him to give your swollen bud some attention.

You knew the man wasn’t accustomed to be on the giving side, but once he pushed his thick index and middle finger into your heat and you felt a harsh suck to your clit you knew that it wouldn’t hinder him from bringing you the pleasure you needed.

Slow, painfully slow he moved inside you, fingers curled, looking for the spot that always had you arch your back against his chest. His tongue worked relentlessly on your apex, licking, sucking, nibbling until overstimulation had you cry out his name, hand harshly pulling him up by his dark brown locks. Your breaths were shallow and fast, chest heaving with every suck of air.

You expected him to get up and ask for you to return the favor, instead he climbed back onto you, hissing at the stinging pain on his wrist. You hadn’t even noticed how soaked the sheets beneath you had gotten, dark red patches sticking to the floor, surely leaving some stains that would be impossible to get rid of.

Wet lips crashed onto yours, the smell of your own juices mixed with blood filling your nostrils. In any other occasion you would’ve gagged at the scent, but right now it was good, natural, like this was how the air around you was supposed to smell all the time.

You could feel your master fumbling around with his underpants, impatiently pulling until he finally freed his cock, already dripping in anticipation. He breaks the kiss and nuzzles his face into your hair before sliding his length against your sticky folds, coating it in your cum and his saliva. You can feel that he wants to just push himself into your cunt in the way he groans and clenches his free fist, but he takes his time, which is an unusual thing for him to do.

You were used to being an object to him, a vessel to take his frustrations out on, and to be frank it never bothered you. You had devoted your life to fulfill his desires, even though the reasons for it were all kinds of wrong. You knew he was using you, knew that you meant nothing to him for the longest of times, still you stayed by his side, and ultimately that was when his feelings towards you changed. Right to the point where even the monster you called you master was speaking of ‚ _love_ ‘ and not just ‚ _lust_ ‘.

When you looked up into his face, his eyes pressed shut, mouth slightly agape, you didn’t want to wait anymore. Pulling his face down to yours you whisper to him, that you love him, _worship_ him, that all you wanted this moment was to be filled up by the man that was like a God to you.

A relieved sigh leaves his lips as he finally lines himself up with your wet, awaiting hole and pushes his complete length into you with one harsh thrust. You moan in unison as he spreads the tender walls that cling around his cock so deliciously, before he pulls himself out again just to slam into you even heftier than before.

It was indescribable, in the best way possible. Although not much had changed about the way he used your body you could feel with every movement that this wasn’t just for his delight, that he wanted to make you feel just as blissful as he felt that moment.

His pace was controlled, though his thrusts didn’t lose any of the harshness from when he had started to fuck into you. Between ragged breaths and strangled moans he kept whispering your name, a bloodied hand cupping your cheek ever so softly as he rocked his hips into yours. For once you felt like this was all about _you_.

It was emotional, so much so that you couldn’t help the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, tears of joy and pleasure that once they began to trickle down your temples didn’t want to stop. Not even your masters reassuring words and caresses could stop them now that the flood gates were open.

The stimulation you got by his groin grinding against your clit had you feeling light headed, almost as if you were in a trance, as if this was all some kind of dream formed by your wishful thinking. But this wasn’t a dream, it was the reality you had always hoped for, prayed for and now all your pleas had finally brought you to get what you wanted. What the both of you wanted.

You didn’t know for how long he had been taking you before your moans turned into sobs, your freshly cut, bleeding forearm held in front of your face to hide the pathetic expression that had crept onto it. But your master wanted to see you, wanted to savor the way how your rough facade crumbled away as he plunged into you. A strong hand wrapped around the incisions on your wrist, carefully pulling away your arm just to pin it down above your head.

You looked so beautiful, all worked up and crying underneath him, something he never got to see before this night. All the times he had fucked you before you were ecstatic, loud and insatiable but now, overwhelmed by your feelings and his actions you were quiet apart from the pained sobs that left your throat. It was a look the man could get used to, and you surely thought so as well.

As his hips started stuttering and you could feel your own climax building up as well, Strade reached down between your legs to massage you through your peak, releasing his seed inside you as you squealed and whined for him, barely able to form a word as the overpowering wave of pleasure took over you and your master simultaneously.

He slipped out of you, streaks of cum following his cock before he let himself down on the ground beside you. You watched as his chest heaved with every labored breath he took. With his body covered in a thin coat of sweat and strands of wet hair stuck to his temples he looked _divine_. You had always thought so despite his ruffian appearance, still in this moment it was almost blinding.

His head turned to you, a blissful smile tugging at his lips. It was the first time he looked at you like this and not with the feral, teeth baring grin he usually gave you after he used you as his cocksleeve. You tried to return his smile, but your lips were still quivering, tears still flowing. The crying didn’t stop until he pulled you into his embrace, a hand gently caressing your back. When you finally felt your eyes run dry your master pulled himself up, leaving you alone on the stained, wet sheets.

Emptiness filled your mind, the feeling of needing him beside you was overwhelming, and soon the tears began streaming down your reddened cheeks again. This time you cried silently, not a single sob leaving you as you turned on your side and cradled your legs against your chest. You hoped that it would always be this way now, that he had fully accepted you as an equal.

When your master returned he held all kinds of medical equipment; bandages, rubbing alcohol and compresses to tend the wounds you had so passionately given each other. The way he handled you as he took care of your cuts was kind, cautious to not hurt you even further. He ignored the tears that flowed against your will, to him it was more of a blessing than a nuisance to see you like this, and just like you he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you broke down for him so beautifully.

You wanted to help your master with his own lacerations but he just shook his head, placing the hand you had raised to pick up the alcohol solution back onto your thigh. It didn’t take him long until he had finished wrapping the last few inches of the bandage around his wrist, and without even wasting a single glance to the utensils still on the ground he helped you stand, bobbing his head to the stairs leading to his bedroom.

Without a word you followed him, slim fingers tangled into his as you walked through the threshold and let yourself fall onto the soft bedcover on top of the mattress. You didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be at least early morning hours by now judging by the singsong of the birds outside.

You both slip underneath the blanket, a thick arm wrapping around your shoulder as you rest your head onto the broad chest of your master, listening to his heartbeat. After all the time you’ve lived with him now this was the first night you slept in his bed and not in the guest room. You desperately hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember kids, never go to bed while there are still candles burning!


End file.
